Page 56 of Royally Rivalled

I played with her hair. “Yes.”

“But what about my song about UBI?”

I chuckled. “Oh, well, that was lovely, too. But it wasoursong. I was on the keys.”

“My dance sold it.”

“Your dance was great.”

Our eyes locked again. I didn’t know what this feeling was, but I was drawn to her. Love her or hate her, Astrid was undeniably different. She challenged me. No one got under my skin or tortured me with questions like she did.

“Thanks for agreeing to come and then leaving when I got overwhelmed,” Astrid said.

“Sure. You did panic.”

“Don’t judge?—”

“I’m not, Astrid. It was unexpected. You are very confident.”

“Issues crop up sometimes. I’m competent, but I even have my moments. I can struggle with some social things—normal things.”

I nodded. “Well, I appreciate your confidence. You’re competent, too, as you say. And nightclubs aren’t my thing, either.”

thirty-four

ASTRID

Exhausted and satisfied,I tossed my luggage aside and flopped on my bed. Herding undergrads towards a train station took every ounce of my energy. Avoiding thoughts about Parker pinning me to the bed had been a struggle for the six hours of train travel. I was ready to sleep and regroup.

“Hey, hey, hey!”

I looked over to see Amara in the doorway. “You’ve been quiet. How was it?”

“It was fine,” I answered, too tired to gush.

At the same time, I wanted to boast.

“Well, how was the Dickish Duke?” She flopped next to me in bed. “After you sent me that update, I worried.”

“Oh, um, so we… we had sex,” I said.

“What!?”

“So, it’s a long story, but we had sex.”

“And was it good?”

“Yes!”

“Oh my God. So, like, is this a thing, then?”

“It isnot.” I insisted. “No. He’s good in bed. We had a bit of fun. We’re not together. It’s not A Thing.”

“Uh-huh. So, hate sex?”

“Sure,” I lied.

Hate sex didn’t describe it. It started off that way, perhaps, but the ending consisted of very tender cuddling. Parker was sweet, even if I wasn’t sure what it meant. He had been kind, supportive, and invested in my happiness. And then, back on the train, he was back to his grumpy self even if—for once—he didn’t grump at me.

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